


sacked then saved

by jswoon2



Series: Jon Snow: Started from the Bottom [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Grooming, M/M, Sex Toys, Underage Sex, child grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jswoon2/pseuds/jswoon2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To keep peace Eddard Stark sends his one and ten bastard son to be the ward and future husband of Balon Greyjoy’s eldest son. He won't know what they plan to do with Jon until later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sacked then saved

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which instead of Theon being sent to Winterfell, Jon is sent to Pyke instead, meaning the siege of Pyke during the Greyjoy's Rebellion fails. (How that influences the rest of GoT canon, I haven't changed.)
> 
> Jon is the only character at the moment significantly de-aged. Theon and the other Greyjoys are kept at their relative ages in the books. Instead of Jon being 9 when given to the Grejoys as Theon was, he's 11.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated. I have no beta so all proofreading was done by myself.

**AGE 11**

Jon hates the water. He hates the wind, how salt gets into his hair and his eyes, and that sand generally causes a mess everywhere. Everything is itchy and uncomfortable and the air is so damp that Jon almost misses Winterfell and his father droning on about how  _ winter is coming _ when winter never fucking ends anyway. Pyke, in general, is just a nightmare. Pyke is not home.

His mother - no, Robb’s mother - Catelyn had no problem seeing Jon off. She even seemed a little relieved. Jon would be less of a threat to Robb’s title in Pyke. Not to mention, she wouldn’t have to deal with people coming around looking at Ned Stark’s bastard and asking Catelyn where she had been or what had happened. Eddard was a little more reluctant to hand his son over to the Greyjoys but it was for what he felt was a good reason. None of the Stark children could even see their half-brother off. They didn’t understand. Don’t understand. They were told Jon would be going on a trip. People come back from trips.

Only, going to Pyke is no real trip.

In the Greyjoy family there’s three sons and a daughter. Jon is due to marry  the eldest Rodrik one day but Rodrik Greyjoy is not the Rodrik he knows. This Rodrik doesn’t want to teach him swordsplay or how to ride a horse properly. Rodrik Greyjoy is more often than not on some voyage to conquer new lands and take some helpless women as saltwives. Maron is the second oldest. He wasn’t even present when Jon arrived at Pyke and hasn’t come home yet either. Theon, the youngest son, is the runt of the Greyjoy litter. He avoids eye contact with Jon more often than not.

Asha is another story. She’s as ruthless as Rodrik, possibly even more from what he’s heard. Even if it comes off reluctant, he always takes his younger sister with him. He won’t admit it but Jon sees how Rodrik acknowledges that the girl has talent for what she does. She has no interest in taking up wives but the gold. The gold is enough to entice her for the dangerous life that being a typical Greyjoy provides. Her bravery and spunk reminds him of Arya.

Jon tries not to think about Asha too much.

“Come here, baby.”

The boy flinches. He pauses, his hand still in the fruitbowl. He has permission from Balon to wander the castle but even so, the authoritative tone makes Jon flinch nonetheless. The Greyjoy children speak to him like he’s Rodrik’s but their Uncle Euron speaks as if Jon is his.

“Right here,” the man says, patting his lap. Jon’s bottom lip quivers even as he follows the command. “Good boy. You must need a father figure, am I right, dear?” With the little boy on his lap Euron feels comfortable. Perhaps a bit too comfortable. “Are you hungry? I have a little present for you. It’s much tastier than an apple, I assure you.”

Shy, Jon nods. He spent most of the first week at Pyke wandering around the castle, trying to find his way. Exploring is nothing like Winterfell. Pyke doesn’t have all the nooks and crannies that Winterfell does and if it does, Jon doesn’t know where to find those places. He would ask Theon but the boy doesn’t seem to like him very much. With Rodrik absent, nobody really cares so long as Jon doesn’t get in anyone’s way.

Those people are strangers. Jon knows well enough not to speak out too loosely around strangers.

Euron grins with too little teeth and too much gum. He shifts Jon on his lap until the boy feels something hard and slightly damp against his lower back. “Why don’t you get down and unwrap your surprise, baby boy?”

As much as Jon likes presents, he doesn’t like surprises. Most of Uncle Aeron’s surprises comprise of the saltwater Jon hates so much. He isn’t too eager to find out what Euron’s surprise is even as he pulls at the strings of the man’s pants. Cringing, he licks his saltwater covered lips. His throat feels dry.

The surprise is a hard cock with a pearly bead of come at the tip. Jon looks at the man in confusion. He has a body part that’s similar but his is much smaller. Wrapping his slim fingers around the girth of the man, Jon bites his lower lip. Even though he’s taken out his surprise he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Put it in your mouth.” Euron says, smiling gently, reaching out to cup Jon’s jaw. When the boy doesn’t open his lips, Euron forces his thumb inside until he’s prying those pink lips apart by force. “There we go.”

All it takes is one little lick for Jon to realize that he doesn’t like the taste of come - or at the very least, Euron’s come. Just like everything else in Pyke, it tastes salty. He misses the sweets that came from Winterfell. The only things sweet here are the things that Balon’s sons bring back sacked from other islands.

“Go as deep as you can,” the man encourages. “My cock isn’t going to suck itself.”

From day one, Jon has heard the stories about Euron.  _ Balon is mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is the maddest _ . The last thing he wants is to upset the man. Crawling closer between the vee of the man’s hips, Jon lowers his mouth onto the man’s cock. He isn’t even able to swallow half of it down before he chokes. The man is too big for him. It brings tears to the corner of his eyes but he really, really doesn’t want to see just how mad Euron can be so he takes a deep breath through his nose and forces the cock down until it pokes the back of his throat.

Jon pulls back coughing and spitting. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get better with practice.” Euron combs his fingers through Jon’s hair soothingly. With each little tug, Euron shifts his hips closer. “I want you to open your mouth and when I tell you to swallow, you swallow.”   
He nods without question.

Big hand wrapped around his cock, Euron begins jerking himself off, tip of his cock balanced on Jon’s bottom lip. It’s picturesque, the man thinks. The boy looks beautiful so young and pure on his knees waiting to swallow down his come. Euron grunts with each time the foreskin moves as his hand does, his cock just wet enough from Jon’s mouth. His baby went about things too inexperienced.

The rub of calluses on his hand against his cock makes Euron come right into Jon’s mouth, thick and hot.

“Swallow.”

Reluctant, Jon closes his mouth and swallows. He closes his eyes as if in pain. Obviously the taste displeases him. Euron makes a note to tell Rodrik to work on that. Jon is too green. Once he gets used to how things will be from now own, he’ll learn to appreciate such a gift. Given enough lessons, the boy won’t even think to waste a drop of seed. He’ll thrive on it. By the time Eddard Stark calls his son home, the bastard won’t want to leave.

“You know how to say thank you.” Euron prompts Jon only to be interrupted by a mean glare over the boy’s low shoulder.

Rodrik always chooses the wrong time to show up. Jon thanks the old gods and rushes over to the other man. The Greyjoy looks oddly at the boy attached to his leg. Immediately, he knows his uncle has done something. His father has told the family that Jon Snow is Rodrik’s, not that any of them listen. The only one who heeds any kind of warning is Theon and that’s only because Theon is still trying to figure out if he has two older brothers or three.

“I don’t believe that Jon is yours.” Rodrik addresses his uncle, scowling. He tries to figure out what his uncle’s game is. The problem is Euron doesn’t play by the rules of anything. “I brought you back some gifts, Jon. Let’s go out to the ship. My men haven’t brought them in yet.”

Wide, and almost proud, Jon grins. He knows how to get to the dock from his hall. From day one, this is where he’s wandered the most. Alone, Jon scampers off, eager to find out what Rodrik brought him back and to get away from Euron even more so. He never asked Rodrik to bring him so he isn’t sure what it is but it has to be better than what the man’s uncle gave him.

An unfamiliar man with a design of spirals on the side of his bald head waits with a chest at his feet. The rest of Rodrik’s crew works around them, moving crates of jewels and gold into the castle. Jon is sure he hasn’t found that room yet. There’s no map that marks the spot in this castle. Winterfell has nothing of the sort either. He’s heard fake stories from Jory Cassel of such a place and found nothing.

“Open the chest.” Rodrik says behind Jon. The man has a long cut along his arm that wasn’t there when he had left. Loosely wrapped and partly uncovered, the wound looks like it’s healing already.

Quickly, Jon obeys. Inside the chest a pile of treats and a moving sack waits. Jon knows it’s for him but he isn’t sure if this is some kind of test. These gifts smell too much like Winterfell, too much like home, that it feels almost like a trap. Rodrik must see it on Jon’s face because he pushes the boy forward until he stumbles in front of the chest.

“Go ahead. Open the sack first. My men traveled very far to find this prize.” 

The sack moves so it’s only natural for Jon to be apprehensive about opening it. Still, he tries to lift the sack only to find it’s heavier than it seems. The contents inside squirms, thrashing until Jon drops it out of surprise. Rodrik shakes his head in disappointment both at how weak Jon is at this age and how his prize is trying to squirm away. Pulling the strings apart, a furry head pops through, snout first, followed by two pointy ears.

“Taking a trip to Winterfell did a lot of shit to my ships so you better be fucking grateful. Mother suggested bringing back something to remind you of home. A bunch of romantic nonsense, really, but if this thing grows up to be something, perhaps you can teach it a thing or two about having a backbone.” Looking up at the man who brought the chest, Rodrik dismisses him with a single wave of the hand. “Euron is a lech. He should know not to touch things that aren’t his. You’re mine, Jon. Stay away from him.” Rodrik says, dumping the direwolf pup onto the wooden dock. The animal falls messily onto the damp wood, shivering.

For the first time in a while, Jon smiles.

 

* * *

 

The Greyjoys make Jon put a collar on Ghost the same time that they make Rodrik do the same for Jon. Ghost is big enough to bite hard to do damage and that makes the Greyjoys nervous. The direwolf is protective over Jon, growling at anyone who makes Jon feel uncomfortable. Ghost has bitten Euron more than the rest of them. Having enough with Euron’s complaining and leaving the boy in Pyke alone, Rodrik begins taking Jon on small trips with him. Just quick three day trips at first. Each journey becoming longer than the last. Jon becomes less scared of the ship filling up with water every time. Rodrik considers it progress.

“What has my uncle taught you so far?” Rodrik asks, balancing the kicking direwolf on his knee. He dislikes how the animal constantly nips at his fingers. Taking the thing by the scruff of its neck, Rodrik drops the wolf to the ground. “Has he stretched your pretty hole yet or stuffed you full? I need a saltwife one day to give me children.”

Jon turns red. In lieu of his nephew’s absence, Euron has had time to familiarize himself with Jon. Since it displeases his brothers so much, it only makes Euron enjoy it even more. He’s drawn to the boy as much as Jon is repelled. So far the man has made Jon do many things. Starting with making him sit on the man’s lap at breakfast to warm the old man’s soft cock to crawling beneath his desk while he reads his maps.

Euron is the reason why Jon accompanies Rodrik and his crew on his quests.

Gentle fingers slip between the leather collar and Jon’s neck. He blinks. Rodrik grits his teeth as he jerks the boy closer by the collar. 

“Go to my cabin and wait. I’ll expect you fully undressed.” 

Awkwardly, Jon waddles off. Aeron came up with the idea. Freshly whittled, Aeron produced his nephew a wide and bulbous object with a flat bottom intended for Jon. The priest had the idea to rinse the boy of all sin from all ends with saltwater. First, the water has to say inside before it can draw out any of the bad. Now that rough object is keeping Jon full, full of come from half the crew.

Euron’s cabin is oddly warm. By Euron’s orders, the crew keeps a fresh fire burning for Jon. Experience living in Winterfell really means nothing. He gets cold at night either way despite the saltwater in the air making him feel sticky. The more antsy Jon is, the more Euron gets annoyed. The only reason the crew doesn’t mind the extra chore is because they’re allowed to fuck Jon afterward. A quick release after being away from their whores for weeks on end.

All the clothes except for the thick collar come off. Jon folds everything else and puts them neatly in the corner. The plug shifts each time he moves. For the most part it’s uncomfortable but every once and a while it rubs against a special place inside him that makes him keen. Once or twice he tried playing with the plug. All that did was make some of the come slip free down the back of his thighs, making him but uncomfortable and sticky. Jon almost contemplates removing the plug himself when Rodrik begins taking too long. The wool sheets are rough against his skin that he can’t sit still for long.

Maybe this trip Rodrik will get him something silk.

“On your hands and knees, it’s examination time.” Rodrik commands, slamming the cabin door closed.

Rolling around on the bed, Jon situates himself. With his legs spread he can tell that he’s entirely exposed. The plug moves around nice and snug when his back bows and his chest rubs against the wool again.

The warm body pressing against his back is fully clothed. Rodrik is so much bigger than him that the whole entire frame of the man overshadows Jon. The kisses against the back of his throat are syrupy. Moaning, Jon presses his face into the mattress. Rodrik always compliments how vocal Jon is. In fact, he enjoys it. Jon is beginning to enjoy it too.

“How many men have come in you today?” Rodrik questions. He knows answering makes Jon embarrassed. He feeds on it.

“Six.” Jon mutters into the crook of his arm, keeping his back arched high. “Six men.” He doesn’t add that two of the six took his mouth as well. He knew that Rodrik had been watching his crew carefully. Rodrik doesn’t like when they rough Jon up without permission.

Humming in approval, Rodrik tugs on the plug sharply. Jon whimpers. His hole clenches around the wood, anything to keep his body full. Gods, he’s gotten used to being full. The first voyage had been intimidating. The crew looked at Jon like he was their first and last meal. Now, he looks forward to having these men take him. He doesn’t want the men. No, but the sex. The sex feels so good.

A long dribble of come escapes from his hole. Jon resists reaching back to slip his fingers inside. He doesn’t have to. Rodrik spreads the boy’s cheeks wide and presses his salty lips against the stretched hole. Jon curses loud, pressing his ass back as a slippery tongue slips inside. The man remains there, scooping the come into his mouth before giving Jon’s ass a firm slap.

“Oh, fuck,” Jon groans, peeking out from where he’s been hiding his face. Another slap reminds the boy he shouldn’t curse.

Rodrik wastes no time. The man pulls Jon by the chin, forcing his mouth open. Jon obediently closes his eyes and waits. The come is watery from Rodrik’s saliva but he takes it and swallows it nonetheless. Contentedly Jon flops forward until his whole chest is on the mattress, ass up. Dragging a calloused hand down Jon’s back as a promise for what’s to come, Rodrik draws back to strip himself of his clothes slowly.

“Two more days and we’ll hit our destination. I’ll bring you all the sweets you’ll ever want.” Rodrik says, climbing back onto the bed. Fingers wrapped around his cock, he climbs on top of the boy, slipping inside with ease. “They’ll be even sweeter than you, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> So although right now this is marked as complete, I do have some ideas for how this could continue. Whether or not that happens, I'm a bit unsure.


End file.
